


Happily Ever After

by Kitty September (KittyAug)



Series: Harry Potter - Fests & Prompts [3]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Emotional Infidelity, F/F, Time Travel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-20
Updated: 2016-09-20
Packaged: 2018-08-16 07:11:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,605
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8092531
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KittyAug/pseuds/Kitty%20September
Summary: Ginny is having doubts about her happily ever after. Perhaps dabbling in a little time travel will set her mind at rest ... or not.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Much love and kneazle hugs to the people who helped make this thing happen on pretty much no notice. Jo, for modding the fest and taking my claim on the day AFTER fics were due! KD for the alpha-read and help with the structure. And thank you most of all to the utterly amazing ravenclawsquill for the most fantastic beta work ever, you're the best! This fic is so much better for R's input, you guys have no idea. All the love!
> 
> Written for the [HP Time Travel Fest](http://hptimetravel.livejournal.com/).

Ginny had known that Luna was in love with her since before the war. There had been too many long nights in the Room of Requirement, too many near misses being hunted in the corridors of Hogwarts. It was obvious even before the Snatchers came for Luna. It had always been there, only ever half hidden in Luna’s crystal blue eyes. Ginny wasn’t stupid, no matter what the papers said about her.

They both knew it, they just didn’t do anything about it.

Ginny had always assumed that being straight was simple and inevitable. Luna might have been more ‘flexible’ in her approach, always and in every way, but Ginny was in love with Harry Potter and that was all there was to it. Ginny had to believe that, back then, when she first noticed the way Luna looked at her sometimes. She had to hold onto the schoolgirl’s dream of a happy ending - if not, she would have crumbled. Harry had been far away and surreal; a saviour she could hope to touch but a mythical hero nonetheless. Luna had been too real, too present, too much a part of it and too endangered. Somehow Luna being in danger had always felt more real than the dangers which threatened Ginny herself, maybe because Luna had always seemed more alive than anyone else. Ginny told herself this made sense because Luna was her best friend and nothing else. She told herself she was holding out for a hero, and that Luna would get over it. It was enough. And besides, there were always other things to think about, back then.

After the war, life had sped up somehow. Everything became urgently hopeful or clouded by grief. There was a whirlwind of emotion and press, and Ginny got lost in the gaps between funerals and victory speeches. She hadn’t worried about it. Luna was always there, always close and clever and bright in the eye of the storm. Ginny hadn’t wanted to think about it. She hadn’t wanted to worry if she should put some distance between them. She needed Luna with her and wouldn’t have been able to push her away even if it was for her own good. Ginny didn’t even let herself dwell on the implications of that. Everyone said she was the epitome of Gryffindor pride and morality, and if she didn’t think about it then she could pretend they were right. As long as the Prophet thought she was wonderful, that would have to be enough. And for a while it was.

After one too many hints from Ginny’s mum, Harry had proposed - at Christmas dinner, of all places. Ginny had cried. Luna had smiled. It was a watery smile, but Luna’s smile was always a little fragile, a little distracted. No one noticed. No one except Ginny and she hadn’t let herself dwell on that either. At least, she hadn’t at the time.

Ginny chose the wedding colours to complement the bridesmaids and groom more than herself, which she thought was rather selfless, all things considered. She settled on pale green and silvery blue. The bridesmaid robes, with all that translucent tulle, made Luna look even more ethereal than usual. It made Ginny’s heart hurt, and something she wasn’t ready to name came crashing back in like a flood.

Luna spun and giggled with an aching freedom, right there in the middle of Twilfitt and Tattings. The organza swirled around her and shone with charmed embroidery. Ginny couldn’t take her eyes off Luna’s face, bright and fresh and everything she needed to hold on to. She still needed something to hold on to, even two years after the war.

Hermione handed Ginny another glass of champagne and gave her a considering look.

“Are you alright Ginny?” Hermione asked. Her voice was light, but Ginny was unnerved by the look. It was the same look Hermione wore when faced with a particularly exciting arithmancy problem, a suspected Death Eater or a piece of tricky legislation. It was the sort of look that meant Hermione was going to solve something, no matter what it took.

Ginny took a strengthening sip of shimmering wine and tried to keep her gaze on Hermione,  rather than the shimmering folds of Luna’s still spinning gown.

“I’m fine,” she lied. Hermione let it slide, for the time being at least.

Luna finally exhausted even her capacity for joyous spinning and landed in a smiling, breathless heap on the sofa next to Ginny. Luna smelled like lime and coconut body potion and something metallic that must have come from her art. Her eyes held secrets and her breath kept coming, fast and shallow from exertion.

“I think you need one too,” said Hermione, and handed Luna a flute of champagne. Luna’s lips glittered like her gown and Ginny couldn’t help her own hopeless smile in return.

* * *

She felt guilty all night. She wasn’t even ready to be sure why, yet. Ginny had always strongly believed that people made their own luck and could only be as happy as they let themselves. This made the strange, implacable discontent even more uncomfortable. She could do this: she could be happy. She just needed to try harder, be less distracted. She could do that. She’d done it before and she would do it again. Ginny Potter’s life was going to be perfect. It was simple. It had to be.

Ginny was still living with her parents. She had told herself it was out of some lost sense of pureblood propriety that had been reawakened after the war, but that wasn’t true. Ron and Hermione had practically – if not officially – moved into Hermione’s Oxford flat as soon as the opportunity arose. Fleur and Bill had lived together before they got engaged, and even George and Angelina’s post-war and grief-fueled romance seemed to be heading the same way.

Ginny told herself it was different because she was the only daughter. There were different expectations for pureblood women. This was true, but it wasn’t the real reason she felt more at home in the rebuilt Burrow than she ever did at Grimmauld Place. Some days it felt as though she and Harry had spent more time alone together before the war than they did now; like they had been closer when they weren’t allowed to be together. Most days Ginny tried to push these thoughts from her mind, reasoning that if you kept thinking like that, it would be all you’d think about. Thoughts like that didn’t fit with Ginny’s happy ending.  She had denied her doubts through a war - why couldn’t she keep denying them in peacetime? Ginny hadn’t lived through a war to be defeated by her own doubts. She hadn’t defended a siege within the walls of her own school just to fight one within herself.

Harry came round to visit every Tuesday and Thursday, and stayed for the whole of family dinner on Sundays, like clockwork. _Like duty_ , whispered a treacherous part of Ginny’s heart. The bridesmaids’ fitting had taken place on a Tuesday, so really Ginny should have expected him. She hadn’t, though. She had forgotten all about him. She felt a familiar and untenable guilt when he turned up at her bedroom door and grinned at her, sheepishly, as though he was the one in the wrong.

Ginny smiled back and they went down to dinner together. Sometimes Ginny liked the silence most of all with Harry, but other times it made her edgy. He seemed so locked in himself these days. She hadn’t noticed at first, but now that she had, she couldn’t unsee it. Luna was never so quiet. Even when her tongue was still, her clothes rustled and her earrings jingled. Sometimes when Harry spoke, Ginny heard nothing at all. The moment she finished this thought, she felt another dark twist of guilt. She knew in her bones that she shouldn’t compare Harry and Luna. Not ever. It wasn’t in her Gryffindor spirit. Then again, she mused, the Sorting Hat had taken some convincing. It hadn't been sure. It had considered other options for her; said that she could spread her wings in her own light, perhaps in Hufflepuff, or even Ravenclaw. Of course, Ginny had told it that she was proud to be a Weasley, and it had chuckled and shouted "Gryffindor!", and the rest was a footnote in the history books.

They were all history now, whether they wanted it or not. Sometimes she wished for a time-turner: one of the ancient, Dark ones, the ones already long lost to time before Ginny and her friends had smashed the modern ones in the Department of Mysteries. Those were the sort that enabled a witch to go back years, decades even, all in exchange for a bit of blood and a willingness to live your way back to the present. Some nights Ginny thought that was a worthy price for the ability to save her friends and family from everything they had become and everything they never would.

She almost said as much to Harry as they set the table for dinner. It didn’t take long to set the table like this; just her, mum and dad, Ron and Hermione, and Harry- always _and Harry_. Her family seemed so much smaller and darker than it used to be. She opened her mouth, started to form the words, tried to express her regret, but she stopped herself when her mum bustled into the room with an overly cheerful smile. Ginny didn’t want to bring back the dark and shadowed look that had haunted her mum after the war. Mum wouldn’t get it, she’d just try to cheer Ginny up. She would try to tell her about all the good things they had now and very carefully not mention Fred. It was too much to bear, always. It was easier to be happy. Or, at least, it should have been.

Luna would know exactly what Ginny meant. She understood things like that. Like the grief for a could-have-been and the possibility of no way back all twisted through with bitter-sweet nostalgia. Luna didn’t believe in happy endings at all: she believed in the joy of _now_. She didn’t care about tomorrow, but she still understood it, just as she understood lost yesterdays. Luna might live in the moment, but she saw so much more in so many directions.

Ginny dismissed her thoughts and went to help her mum.

“The secret’s in the butter, dear,” said Molly as she handed Ginny a bowl of mashed potato.

Ginny blinked at her. The butter was hardly going to help her travel back in time and undo the past or do the things she never had. _Oh, the potatoes_. Mum had been doing that a lot lately: trying to give her household hints, as if she thought Ginny’s imminent marriage would suddenly make her more interested in stuffing chickens than catching quaffles. As if a white dress, a binding spell and a few overused words would turn her into a different person.

Luckily, Ron arrived then and saved her from a conversation which had the potential to rival last week’s chat about the different types of parsley. Ron hugged her, and Hermione tumbled out of the Floo too and pushed Ron out of the way, as if hugging Ginny was some kind of prize. Ginny felt better - still off balance, but distracted; caught in the moment and the light and the love. They had won. Sometimes she just needed to remember that. That was all it was. Probably.

Ron made a comment about his baby sister growing up and Ginny tried not to listen to him: Mum always hated when people hexed each other at the dinner table. The conversation moved on without her to a discussion about the wedding, as usual. Ginny found her mind wandering back to sea-green organza, catching in candlelight. Luna and Hermione were going to look amazing. Luna was going to dance with Nev and maybe she’d even give him another chance. Probably not though. Once Luna decided something wasn’t making her happy, she never worried about it again. She spun and she danced and she laughed. Sometimes she cried or broke down and sat in a soft heap, but then she picked herself up and found something to smile about again. “It’s smile magic,” Luna had once said. Ginny wished she knew that magic too. Maybe she’d been too busy being Riddle’s puppet to pay attention to that lesson, or saving children from Carrows, or just plain lost in her own Harry-centric little world to even notice.

Harry’s voice brought her back to earth. “I invited Malfoy,” he said, casually, as if that made perfect sense.

“Oh?” said Ginny. Because really, what else was she meant to say when her future husband invited a complete twat to her wedding. Ginny wasn’t the only one surprised into incoherence: even Ron had paused, with a forkful of food halfway to his mouth- and Ron never stopped eating if he could avoid it. Mum looked as if someone had slapped her and Dad just watched the rest of them and waited for his cue. Hermione very carefully didn’t make eye contact with anyone, which Ginny took to mean that she either already knew or had suspected as much.

“You … what?” Ron asked at last. He sounded as horrified as Ginny thought she ought to feel.

The wedding still felt so far off though, that it was hard to feel anything much at all about it. It was almost imaginary, like a fairytale; something from Beedle the Bard. A wedding seemed like something that happened after the story ended, not something she actually had to live through. It just didn’t feel like it mattered. Ginny wondered if that was normal. Sometimes she wondered if anything about her would be normal ever again.

There was, inevitably, an argument. Ginny let the words fly over her head and wondered why it mattered. Dinner happened, and so did dessert. Harry and Hermione did the washing up and Ginny lost a game of chess to Ron. It was a nice night, all thing considered.

Harry gave her an odd look and a single kiss when he left. All she really noticed was the taste of treacle on his lips and it wasn’t until later that she realised it was the only time they had touched all night.

* * *

That night she dreamed of treacle kisses and blonde hair. She got lost in a maze of organza, green satin and mixed feelings. She dreamed about kissing someone, an unknown figure wrapped in green and blue and sunlight. The dream person kissed her like it still meant something and it tasted like lime and freedom. The dream kiss made her shiver and respond in a way she had almost forgotten.

* * *

Someone had decided to hold the stag and hen do’s on the same weekend. Ginny couldn't remember if it had been her idea or Hermione’s, but it seemed like a sensible idea, so she went along with it.

The wedding was only a few weeks away, and it still didn’t seem real to Ginny. The Prophet photographers hadn’t left her alone much before, but now they were practically glued to her. It felt as though she never got a minute to herself: she was either being followed by strangers with cameras or surrounded by well-meaning family and friends. She tried not to complain. She smiled as brightly as she could and ignored the cold places inside her, the ones that never really healed. Most people didn’t even notice, and those who did told her it was normal to be stressed before the big day.

Luna smiled at her more softly than usual and gave her an amulet against contagious Nargles. Ginny could have sworn it helped, even if Ron laughed at her for wearing it. She wore it, tucked inside her shirt, warm against her skin. Nobody needed to know. It was a sweet gift. Luna always meant the things she said. It wasn’t her fault that other people didn’t always understand.

Ron laughed at Luna a lot. It made Ginny itch for her wand. She wondered if it was bad luck to curse the best man a week before the wedding, and asked Luna’s opinion. Luna just laughed, light and sweet and real. Luna had only ever held grudges against a few truly evil people and this one wouldn’t be the exception.

“I expect it depends on what kind of luck you want,” she smiled. Yes, Ginny supposed it did.

Everything seemed to be rushing towards her without her consent, and before she knew it the blasted hen do was upon her.

Hermione was Ginny’s maid of honour. It had made sense with Ron being Harry’s best man, for the sake of making the dancing and escorting situation easier. Of course, that had left Luna and Neville paired up as second choices. Not that Ginny put it that way, and not that Luna or Nev had mentioned why that might have been a bad plan. Everyone was too nice or too distracted to talk about anything as messy as crushes and rejection, not when it might cast a shadow on the wedding of the year.

Luna and Ginny were sitting close at a pink-covered table in a private room at the back of the Leaky. They were waiting for the main event, whatever that meant. The room was full of giggling witches dressed in their brightest robes. Ginny only knew about half of them and almost all of those were girls she had been to school with. Even most of her school friends had been in Harry’s year not her own. That probably meant something she didn’t want to know.

Ginny had heard all sorts of scandalous things about Muggle hen do’s, and was actually excited to find out how many of these bizarre mysteries Hermione would be willing to charm up. Luckily, or perhaps unluckily, Hermione had gone as far as she could the other way.

There were toasts and gifts but there were also blessings on your hearth and all sorts of old fashioned games and rituals. Ginny giggled her way through it, trying desperately to have a good time.

Hermione’s pièce de résistance was unveiled mid-way through the evening, to much oohing and ahhing from the hens. It had been hidden under a cloth on a rather obvious pedestal all night and Ginny was itching to know what it was. She was slightly disappointed when Hermione unveiled it: it just looked like an oddly-shaped pink Pensieve.

“Oh,” Ginny said. Her heart was beating too fast. She was scared they were going to show her someone’s memories. She understood why they would, but all of the best times between her and Harry had been sandwiched between war and death and loss. She didn’t want to think about that time, not tonight, maybe not ever.

“This,” said Hermione with an uncharacteristically flamboyant flourish, “is from the Shacklebolts’ personal collection.” Mrs Shacklebolt smiled from across the room and raised her glass in a half-toast to the bride. Ginny smiled back weakly.

Then Ginny noticed the mischievous glint in Hermione’s eyes, and she realised it had to be more than a normal Pensieve. Only mysteries or ancient magic got Hermione that worked up. This particular artefact seemed to be both.

* * *

It wasn’t a Pensieve. On closer inspection, its shape was the only real similarity. It was shiny, the slight curve of the big pink bowl polished to a mirror sheen. It held a strange, shimmering sand instead of the mist of memory. Ginny felt even more trepidation at the sight of it.

Hermione stepped up to the bowl with a confidence that Ginny suddenly didn’t feel.

“It only works for witches,” Hermione explained in her endearingly bossy lecturing voice, “and it only works on the new moon before a wedding.” Hermione grinned at Ginny. It was, of course, the new moon tonight.

This was Old Magic. The stuff of legends, the type of magic that had officially disappeared centuries ago, leaving only the whisper of rumours behind. It was the sort of thing that just didn’t work anymore unless it had been very finely wrought even then. It was amazing, and the opportunity to try it was exactly the sort of thing only Harry Potter’s bride would be gifted. Ginny tried not to resent it.

“It’s just a little glimpse, but the arithmancy is sound.” Hermione said, as if trying to reassure someone. Ginny wasn’t sure who. Maybe herself.

Like a lot of Old Magic, it required three witches to activate the charm work. Ginny stood at the centre. Hermione, barely able to contain her excitement, was to Ginny’s left and Luna, with an un-Luna-like hesitancy, on Ginny’s right.

Hermione had explained how it worked. Ginny would get one try, one question, a glimpse of one possible path.

Ginny was a Gryffindor and a war hero and she wasn’t about to be cowed by a bowl of sand. She took one last gulp of warm pub air and, with her friends’ hands on her shoulders, drew her wand and placed the tip in the sand. She focused, for the first time in weeks, on her question. Her real question. The one she had been too afraid to ask, let alone answer.

“ _Lineae finem_ ,” Ginny whispered. The world went black.

* * *

It felt a bit like taking the Floo in reverse, a bit like the kickback from a botched _wingardium leviosa_  and a lot like the taste from the other side of a dream. That is to say, it was a very hard feeling to explain and as it receded it tugged relentlessly at Ginny’s bones, like it wanted to pull her back to where she belonged.

Ginny found herself in a large, round room. Crystals hung from the ceiling and there were overstuffed chairs covered with brightly mismatched rugs and blankets. Even displaced in time and in an unfamiliar room, Ginny easily recognised Luna’s eclectic style. She just gathered things she liked, regardless of whether they went together or not. Ginny loved it, the clash of beautiful and quirky and bright and cute, all these things that had made Luna smile enough to keep them and make them part of her nest. Luna’s flats had always been like that, and this larger, more grown up version was no different.

Ginny could hear the ocean through the open window and smell the sea and herbs and paint in the air. It was kind of perfect. It looked as if someone else lived here too - there were Quidditch magazines and too many practical items for it to be purely Luna’s - but this was definitely Luna’s sitting room, Ginny just knew it. Luna loved round spaces, she said they held good magic better than bad.

At that moment, Luna herself entered the room. She was wearing a blue and gold dress with a bright red and orange shawl, all soft fabrics and clashing colours and it was utterly perfect. Ginny smiled at her even though she knew this image of an older Luna couldn’t see her. It was all the more surprising, then, when Luna smiled back and stepped up to her, cupped her cheek and kissed her. It was just the way Ginny would have imagined Luna to kiss, if she’d ever let herself. It was soft and sweet and lingering; a little chaste and achingly familiar. Luna’s lips were still so smooth and light on Ginny’s that Ginny whimpered.

“Ginny,” Luna said, a knowing fondness in her voice that made Ginny’s heart flutter uncomfortably. “You know we don’t have time for that sort of thing right now.”

“I do?” Ginny asked. She didn’t know that at all and wasn’t even sure what ‘that sort of thing’ might be, but she was starting to get all sorts of ideas about finding out. Luna had never, ever made a move on her before. Ginny hadn’t even been completely sure if Luna was interested in that kind of love. The kiss had put paid to any such idea and suddenly every inch of Ginny’s skin wanted to know what else Luna might want from her, given enough time.

Luna’s hand found Ginny’s and tangled their fingers together. She smiled that wistful smile and her eyes sparkled with something temptingly knowing. Ginny wasn’t sure if it was the magic or just Luna, but her whole body felt as if it was on the edge of something terrible and exciting. She felt like pacing or screaming or flying but she stayed utterly still, waiting for the magic to shatter. Or maybe just her soul.

“Are you okay?” Luna tugged on Ginny’s hand but didn’t let go, thank Circe. If Luna let go, Ginny thought she might become untethered and be lost in time, lost in herself or lost in Luna. Maybe all three.

“Yeah,” Ginny breathed her answer. Because she was. She was okay with this. It wasn’t what the mirror was meant to show her. It certainly wasn’t the intention of the gift, but she was 100 percent on board with where it took her. She was 100 percent on board with Luna holding her hand and standing too close and smiling at her like she made the sun rise.

“If you say so.” Luna shrugged it off and accepted Ginny’s response just as she did all the other things which she found incomprehensible about Ginny. _Other people are too normal for her_ , Ginny thought. Too boring, or too simple in their view. Luna saw things because she was willing to and she accepted and ignored things she didn’t want to take on. It wasn’t the self-destructive kind of ignorance; it wasn’t that she didn’t know what people expected, or thought of her, or wanted from her. She just didn’t care.

But she did care about Ginny, and wasn’t that something? Ginny had never really realised just how precious a thing that might be. When Luna hugged her, and wrapped Ginny in the scent of lime and coconut, everything made sense and seemed a lot more valuable. Ginny was about to see if she could repeat the kissing thing when there was a loud knock at the door. Ginny jumped and Luna laughed at her softly.

Luna let go and by some strange magic Ginny didn’t float away or lose her footing. The world continued to spin - just a little too fast - but it didn’t fall apart.

Luna looked at her oddly, as if Ginny’s behaviour was strange even by her standards, then shrugged and answered the cottage door.

Ginny was surprised to see a slightly older version of Harry in the doorway. He had the very start of silver in the hair at his temples. It suited him, in an abstract kind of way. As Luna hugged Harry and welcomed him into her home, Ginny felt awkward and even further off balance. She was unsure why people in what should be a vision seemed to be able to see and hear and touch her. She couldn’t see where she fitted in all of this. Was future Ginny cheating on Harry with Luna? Surely not. Not that Ginny trusted herself - knowing what it felt like to kiss Luna, she didn’t think she could give it up now. But Luna wouldn’t be able to keep up a pretence like that. She wouldn’t hug and smile and be so genuine if Harry was arriving to steal her lover back to his rightful side, would she?

Witches and wizards didn’t really get divorced though: the binding magic in traditional marriage ceremonies tended to see to that. Now she considered it, Ginny had a sinking feeling she had been hoping that the ceremony would fix something she hadn’t wanted to admit was broken.

“You alright, Gin?” Harry asked. Ginny looked back at him, still distracted by her own confusion.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” she lied, yet again. “Why do people keep asking me that?”

Harry shrugged. He didn’t like uncomfortable or confrontational questions, and apparently this was one because he turned back to Luna. Like he was used to Ginny being prickly, which was fair, but also like it didn’t really matter to him any more. Maybe that was fair too.

“We’re really grateful,” Harry told Luna, his tone painfully genuine. It was all a bit much.

The fabric of Luna’s soft cotton dress clung to her in ways that Ginny shouldn’t have noticed. Distracting ways that made Ginny not want to think about fixing anything, except maybe herself to Luna’s lips again. Before she could wind herself up any further, Ginny was struck in the stomach by a fast-moving blond blur, which had just run into the house through the open door.

“Oof!” she said.

“Auntie Ginny!” cried a small voice, and her assailant promptly attempted to climb her. The blur turned out to be a little boy aged anywhere from four to seven. Being the youngest child, Ginny had never been very good with children, or knowing how old they were.

“Um, hi?” said Ginny, hoping that Luna, or even Harry, might come to her rescue.

Ginny’s mind was reeling. The kid was _very_  blond. Did Luna have a son? With whom? Why would Luna be kissing Ginny like a perfect dream if she had a kid? Maybe the kid pre-dated the snogging?

“Oh,” said Luna, turning to Ginny with a look of dawning realisation. “Is it today?”

“It generally is, you know,” drawled the voice of Draco sodding Malfoy who had appeared in the doorway with a raised eyebrow and a surprisingly good-natured smirk. “Although, I suppose it is so often yesterday or tomorrow for you that it’s easy to get confused.”

This was apparently a very strange future indeed because Harry didn’t promptly hex the git and neither did Luna. Not that Luna would - she always refused to give anyone that sort of satisfaction. However, Luna didn’t even give Malfoy her ‘slightly blank and bored, looking at something you couldn’t see that was infinitely more interesting than you’ look. What Luna did do was _smile_  at Malfoy. Yuck!

“Thanks for that, Dragon,” Luna said, surprisingly dryly, but Malfoy didn’t hex anyone either. He just rolled his eyes at what was obviously a familiar nickname. Then he turned to look at the blond child who was still trying to get Ginny to pick him up. “Are you alright Ginevra?” Malfoy asked. His tone was neutral, like he thought she was a person or something.

Ginny glared at him in response, not caring one bit if she broke the timeline.

Harry huffed as if it was all an adorable joke, and then grinned at Malfoy. “She doesn’t want to be asked that today.”

“Right-oh,” Malfoy said with an insultingly bemused shake of his head. “Let’s run away before they realise what they’ve agreed to, shall we?” He had the audacity to wink at Luna.

“Can we go flying?” the child demanded, of Ginny apparently, ignoring the boring adult conversation. Ginny would have been tempted to jump on her broom and fly away immediately if this wasn’t meant to be her only chance to see the future.

“Um? Yes?” said Ginny and looked at Malfoy, who surely had to be the kid’s parent.

Malfoy looked back at her blankly and did the annoying eyebrow thing again.

“Did she get hit in the head by too many bludgers last weekend?” Malfoy asked Luna and Harry, apparently bored of Ginny’s confusion.

Luna laughed. She obviously thought this was all very amusing. Oddly, Luna’s amusement was not nearly as offensive as Malfoy’s.

“Not quite,” said Luna, and she winked at Ginny, which was much nicer than Malfoy winking at people.

“Are you sure you want to do this? We can make other plans, if not,” Harry offered, looking anxiously between Luna, Ginny and the kid. His gaze and concern fell mostly on the kid, though.

“We’ll be fine,” Luna assured him with a smile. She started shooing him back towards the door, and subsequently quite literally into Malfoy’s arms. Both wizards chuckled and allowed this indignity. It seemed like even Malfoy got used to Luna eventually.

It wasn’t until Luna shut the door in their faces and told them to enjoy their date that the implication hit Ginny like one of Malfoy’s imaginary bludgers.

“Are they … ?” Ginny didn’t want to finish that sentence. She was worried the answer might make her throw up and ruin Luna’s beautiful carpets. It’d be such a shame.

“Very much so,” Luna said, quick enough that it would have cut Ginny off had she finished her question.

The world was starting to get even more wobbly.

“Oh, no don’t do that,” Luna said, stepping forward and grabbing Ginny’s wrist. “I haven’t _convinced_  you yet.”

“What was Auntie Ginny doing?” asked the kid. _Good question, kid_ , thought Ginny. _What in Merlin’s name was ‘Auntie Ginny’ doing?_

“Nothing much, Scorpius.” Luna gave the kid all her focus but didn’t let go of Ginny’s wrist. “Just a bit of time travel. Why don’t you have Mopsy help you get the brooms ready, and as soon as we’ve got the right Ginny back, you can go flying?”

A surprisingly modestly dressed House Elf appeared at the sound of its name. The tiny tailored grey suit was as much at odds with its surroundings as Dobby’s mismatched outfits had been at Hogwarts.

“Time travel?” Scorpius asked, eyes wide and eager. He was apparently more perceptive than Ginny had given him credit for. Even if he was potentially related to Malfoy.

Luna just grinned at him beatifically and ruffled his hair, which made him flinch away. Definitely related to Malfoy then. He also seemed to be familiar enough with Luna to know a lost battle when he saw one.

“Master Malfoy is to follow Mopsy to the broom closet now, yes and please,” the House Elf squeaked. Scorpius sighed and followed the elf out of the room through the only other door, though he couldn’t help but take a couple of curious backward glances. Ginny wondered if his blatant curiosity was Harry’s influence. She wasn’t entirely comfortable with that idea.

“Scorpius?” Ginny asked. “Is he … did you?”

“Yep,” said Luna. “But he’s theirs, not ours. I sometimes wonder why you were so good about it. Sometimes you’re not, you know.” The coy edge had returned to her voice. Her hand was still on Ginny’s wrist. It was warm and dry and her rings were skin warmed and sharp against Ginny’s flesh. For a moment Ginny couldn’t meet the promise in Luna’s eyes.

When Ginny got her breath back and looked back up she saw that the edges of the room were fading. “Oh no…” she whispered.

Luna kissed her again, but this time it was quick and passionate and determined. Like she could tell Ginny all her secrets in three seconds of lips and, oh, tongue. Maybe she could. But Ginny wasn’t listening for secrets, she was letting herself fly on the glorious rush of it all. She needed to know every breath of it in case she never got to experience it again.

“Have I convinced you?” Luna asked, gasping and pulling away. “I really like our life. It isn’t a cage.”

Ginny didn’t really understand that part, but she understood Luna. She knew how to read the meaning under the words now.

“I think you always …” But the room was fading fast, and Ginny didn’t get to answer the question.

* * *

Ginny woke up on the floor. There were worse pub floors in Britain, but it still wasn’t pleasant.

“Luna?” Ginny asked, still not sure when or where she was.

Luna was with her in a second. The real Luna. The young, glittering Luna who never kissed Ginny at all, let alone the passionate sort that tried to trade secrets and made her feel like she was flying.

“Did you … were you?” Ginny didn’t know how to ask what she needed to know.

As she came back to her senses, she remembered that all three of them had cast the spell. Old Magic worked in peculiar ways, but there was a very real chance that both Luna and Hermione had seen what had just transpired for Ginny, even if she hadn’t seen them.

“No.” Luna shook her head and withdrew her hand from Ginny’s far too quickly. “Mine was different, I think.”

“So was mine,” added Hermione from over by the pedestal. She was leaning heavily against it, with one hand held to her head. “At least, I very much hope that neither of you saw what I did.”

Hermione was blushing and, if it hadn’t been for the silk memory of Luna’s lips, Ginny might have sincerely wished she _had_  seen whatever it was that made Hermione Granger flush quite so deeply.

“Well,” said Ginny. _Gryffindor_ , she reminded herself.  “Mine was very convincing.” She felt herself smile when her eyes met Luna’s, she couldn’t help it. “Is there a reason you’ve never tried to snog me, Luna?”

Luna actually looked shocked, which was a first, but then she smiled a little too softly. She looked hurt, and no, no, no ... this wasn’t how it was supposed to go. And other people had heard, of course, because she was in a room full of political wives and war heroines. Ginny hadn’t been thinking. Maybe she was even more of an archetypal Gryffindor than she gave herself credit for.

“Putting things in cages makes me cry,” said Luna, so quietly that Ginny would have missed it had she not been holding herself on edge for any sound at all. It was simple and as true to Luna as night and day were to Ginny.

“Well, we’d better break my cage then, hadn’t we?” Ginny grinned at Luna when she spoke and the light started flooding back into Luna’s face.

“Really?” Luna asked, but she stayed too far away. Ginny decided that uncertainty was not a look she liked on Luna.

“Oh my,” said Hermione. She had probably caught on long before, but seemed to realise in that moment just how far Ginny was planning to take this. “No Pansy Parkinson in _your_ vision, then,” she added, mostly to herself. Then, in a much louder voice, “Right, party’s over.” With that, Hermione started to efficiently clear the room of onlookers.

Hermione really was a very good friend to borrow. Maybe one day she would forgive Ginny for dumping her best friend three weeks before the wedding. Then again, if the breakup was the direct cause of Harry shacking up with bloody Malfoy, maybe Ginny didn’t deserve forgiving.

Oh well. It would all be worth it.

As soon as the room had cleared, Ginny closed the distance between herself and Luna. Even Hermione had left them to it.

Ginny knew she needed to let Harry know. To let him go. But she had let that fester for long enough as it was. It could wait a few more minutes. Luna’s lips were addictive and now she’d had one taste, she needed more. One kiss, one real first kiss. Then she’d get back to the real world. And maybe one day, if she played her cards just right, she would catch up to that round room by the seaside. It seemed like a truly happy ending, but for the first time, Ginny was far more interested in finding out how she was going to get there than where _there_  might actually be.

**Author's Note:**

> I have a tumblr - [kittyaugust.tumblr.com/](http://kittyaugust.tumblr.com/).
> 
> Comments and kudos are love! This was my first ever Harry Potter fic... please let me know what you think? <3


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